


The Sleeping King

by Lynn_Nexus



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Potionless - Freeform, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15751206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynn_Nexus/pseuds/Lynn_Nexus
Summary: Mariane doesn't know what's happened to the dark forest... But she caught her fiance cheating on her so she'll brave the over grown forest in hopes of talking to her Childhood friend, the king of the dark forest.She just hopes the curse some have whispered of is only that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok... So this has been 95% done, sitting on my computer... Absolutely -screaming- at me to finish it while I floundered at it's psychic attacks on my brain. -Finally- today I managed to get to where I'm happy with what I've got written for the ending. 
> 
> So yea... A kinda sorta sleeping beauty AU, certainly has some of the tropes. Either way, hope you enjoy it, Other chapter to be posted tomorrow.

Marianne stood at the edge of the dark forest. Once, long ago, she hadn't been scared of the forest. Once it's darkness had been a strange sort of comfort, quiet meetings and childish giggles hidden under the branches and between the vines.

Sadly the forest had changed. 

Bog had changed?

They had been friends as children, an odd sort of pairing, their parents had let them play together while dealing with matters of state between the two kingdoms. Bog had been... So much older than she. The difference in years wouldn't mean much now, but he had been... worldly to her youthful eyes. Now she couldn't help but scoff at her young self, knowing now that five years difference meant very little when you became an adult. But they had been friends before.

Before his lands were cursed... 

She'd been busy with her own life, with Roland wooing her, her sister being the flighty, sugar sweet thing attracting boys and trouble. She hadn't spoken to Bog in years when it had happened. On day the primroses overtook the forest. A flower filling the forest wouldn't have been bothersome... were it not for the undeniable fact that primroses do _not_ have thorns. They also do not grow on black, leafless vines.

She had voiced her concern to Roland at the time, he had swiftly told her not to worry her pretty little head over it. It had sat as a nettle in the back of her mind ever since. Her childhood friend was somewhere in that thicket and she didn't know why he didn't have his goblins chop the plants away. The witch, Sugar Plum, was said to make a potion with the flowers and the pair had spoken at length about it when she was playing with him as a child. She could still remember the conversation...

“Nae Marianne... Tha potion be dangerous!” She'd cocked her head at him and laughed, the childish laugh made him frown. “What is so bad about a potion that makes you love!? Love is _good_!” The boy had been wise and shook his head. “Tough Girl... What if someone used tha potion ta force _you_ ta love someone ya hated?” She'd stopped her playful antics and thought long and hard about what he said. “That's terrible!” He had laughed that time, the teen feeling like he'd finally gotten through to her. “Aye! Just imagine sumone dusted you and ya saw _ME_! Think'a how awful 'at'd be!” Marianne had shoved him laughing. “A big stupid goblin like you?! I guess it wouldn't be _too_ bad...” She grinned and danced around him but he'd stopped and frowned, he almost looked hurt. She'd stopped and climbed onto him, kneeling on his long legs. “Don't make that face Boggy! You'll make Dawn cry!” She'd pecked him on the cheek and curled into him, yawning. He'd curled her in his arms instinctively and made himself comfortable. Their parents had run late that day and he cradled her against his rough chest, letting her nap until he had to leave.

He'd sworn up and down that he would have all the primroses destroyed when he grew up. She didn't know what had happened but the vicious roses that threatened anyone who tried to enter the forest had lead to the talk of curses.

Bog had become King when his father passed. It was only a year or two after they'd had that talk. And true to his word he had his people clear out the primroses. There were tales though, that _these_ primroses were retribution. Most assumed it was for clearing the flowers so many times but the more fevered whispers were that they were a special love curse, one that had befallen the King. Some swore they'd seen Goblins trying to flee the forest only to be pricked by a thorn and fall immediately to sleep, swallowed by the forest. No one put much stock in that, Elves and fairies alike had been pricked trying to get one thing or another and no one had ever claimed to be put to sleep let alone disappearing into the forest.

Roland would find her soon. She had to move if she was going to do this. Roland wouldn't likely follow her to the forest. The cheating pile of squirrel dung that he was. She just... She needed a friend to talk to, someone not her sister, not her father. She needed her friend Bog. Perhaps the Bog King would be too busy for her but she wanted to see him. She could wait for his attentions. She understood how difficult ruling was, she’d been trained her whole life for it. No, she wouldn’t be a terrible, spoiled little princess, she could wait for him to clear his schedule, and at worst she could always talk to Griselda. The old queen was nothing if not welcoming and sweet.

With that resolution she flew into the forest.

The vines climbed and dripped over every tree like kudzu. The forest floor was covered in the blackened vines, the flowers shining in the moonlight like the red of a sun dew. She wasn't sure why they looked so horribly insidious in the forest but they looked like they were pure malice, something she never before thought of a flower. She was able to navigate the forest, flying on memory towards the castle. She'd seen no goblins... no animals... no life. It was as though everything but the plants, even the bugs, were sleeping.

When she spotted the castle through the drapes of vines and flowers her heart leapt in her chest. Only to crash back down in terror. The castle was wound in the vines like they were clutching the building. The distantly familiar entrance to the castle, a skull you entered through the mouth of, had vines clogging the throat of it's entrance. Desperate she searched the castle for another way in. She found the sky light over the throne room, looking in at the dust filled chamber. An eery blue light danced through the room, the throne Bog's father had sat on was cast in strange shadows. As she watched she saw a figure, blue glow lighting across a familiar carapace. The body with long limbs and large pauldrons lay splayed on the throne, seemingly held upright by a thorn pierced through the heart. 

Then the light washed the figures face for the briefest moment. Sharp cheeks and a long nose far too familiar.

Marianne panicked. She drew her sword and used the pommel to shatter the glass, falling into the room and catching herself on her wings. It was almost like she _startled_ the _light_. It flashing brighter for a moment before dimming drastically. The room was empty, there was no person, king or otherwise on the throne, just a tangle of vines that had crept across the seat. The wind through the window and the creek of old wood were the only sounds as she studied the room. 

A pulse of blue light to her right drew her attention and she thought for a moment she saw the once queen drifting through the corridors. She whispered the aged queen's name. The sound was like a bellow as it shattered the silence. Her wing beats seemed to scream through the hollow, echoing like a drum beat, so she walked, stepping over tendrils of vine to exit the room. She was trying to step lightly but she felt the need to go quickly. 

The echo of a sob that sounded like Griselda calling out to her son drew the fairy through the castle. Marianne nearly tripped over a goblin after she'd broken into a run. A small male, fins and a lopsided pair of eyes with a large frog like mouth lay sleeping on the floor. Around a corner there was another, lumpier goblin, also asleep. Marianne tried to shake him awake but neither woke, even when she kicked them in her frustration.

Another pulse of light caught her attention, this time she could have sworn she saw a fairy male strutting down the hall. She called out, begging anyone who could hear her to come out but no one came out. She found more goblins, each one asleep like they'd fallen where they stood, the thorns were never far behind. They trailed along the ceiling and along the edges of hallways but they seemed to shy from her somehow. Finally she came to a door. From the end of the hall she'd thought she'd seen someone go in the door but when she got to the door what she'd thought was a carving turned out to be more vines. 

Marianne reached out and touched them. The vines twisted sharply under her touch, binding more tightly against the door. She hissed at them, anger rising up in place of the dread she'd been feeling. She grabbed a vine and yanked viciously at it. 

Light exploded around her.

“Aw k'mon Bog King! M' willin ta offer ya just about anythin... all just fer one little thing!” She knew that voice! That creep! The man she'd been close to marrying none too long ago. Then another voice echoed around her. She turned to face the light and saw an image of Roland, haloed blue standing facing Bog. His name fell quietly from her lips as she reached out towards the image of her old friend. 

“An Ah told ya! Ah destroy tha primroses fer a reason! Ah'll nae be party ta yer fool scheme!” Roland waived his hands as though he was dispersing smoke. “Oh come on! I told ya there ain’t no _scheme_! Just got my eye on a perdy little thing an I don't wanna take any chances! I won't need the whole potion... you kin use it an snag yourself a queen...” She recognized Roland's insidious cajoling, the snide smirk on his face that screamed he expected his offer to be taken. She watched with baited breath as Bog stamped his grandmother's staff, the thud echoing hollowly through the dead castle. “NEVER! Get _out_ of my castle. Before Ah loose mah temper...” It was rare for Bog to force his words so clearly, she couldn't remember ever hearing him so angry.

The vision faded into nothing as she looked around, shocked at what she'd seen. Roland... Roland had been here!? And he’d been trying to get a love potion?!? She looked at her hand on the vine, was there more to tell? She ripped at the vine again but no light burst forward this time. In her struggle she decided to loose her sword and hack the vines away. Slowly, far too slowly she was able to get the door to open and she slipped inside.

Inside it was a bedroom, a nice one if she were to guess, a slab of overgrown moss cradled the long figure, cracks in the wall and a tiny window let light dance across the floor and the figure the moss seemed keen on curling all around. Nearly enveloped it took her a moment and a step forward to realize this was the king’s bed chamber.

“Bog!” Her voice seemed notably dead in the room, the plush growth swallowing the sound. She heard a shift and looked past the bed. New, terror filed shock flooded her. “GRISELDA!!” The first wakeful thing she'd seen since she entered the forest looked across at her with dim, glassy eyes. “What happened!? Griselda?” She rushed to the aging gobliness only to find the woman slow and sluggish. “Marianne... Oh hello dear. Have you come to wake my boy?” There was a primrose bud pinned behind the gobliness's broken horn and Marianne gripped the aged woman. “What's happened! Why is this... What's going on? Please.. Griselda!” Marianne moved to brush the flower away, finding it's presence on the well meaning woman disturbing but the gobliness clutched at the flower. 

“ **NO**! No... Don't remove it... If you do I'll sleep... like all the others... This way I can be his sentinel. So he can wake up some day...” The old woman's eyes pleaded with Marianne to understand but she didn't know what on earth the dowager could mean. She turned to look at Bog and nearly fell at the shock. A gaping wound lay over his heart. “I knew you were coming... I only wake when someone comes to see him.” The former queen rambled but Marianne didn't really understand as she felt like weeping at the sight of her friend hurt, a wound like that he may be dead. Long, tender fingers danced at the edge of the wound. “It pierced his heart you know. That she-goblin... She ran him through with that thorn.” A sob fell out of Marianne. She could see he was breathing, each breath sounded pained and labored but he breathed. 

“Tell me... What happened?!” Griselda sighed. “He thought she loved him. He doted on her so... but it was a lie. A terrible, horrible lie. She was working with that... That fool fairy. Curse their souls. With how he'd treated Plum I am shocked she was so kind to him... Or maybe it's me she's being kind to... I don't know. I was sure he had died... That bitch had plunged that thorn into his chest and he fell back against the throne, but as she fled my boy still breathed. Plum had made the thorn. So long as he's loved he will live. I could never stop loving my boy... I guess that little harlot assumed I didn't love my own son, or that it had to be more than a mother's love.” Marianne had listened while she inspected the wound. What she'd thought was his flesh was not, it was... It was the back side of the thorn, red and angry, like it was flesh and blood ripped from the source.

“Will you save him now?” Griselda asked, her voice distant like she was drifting back to sleep. “I don't know how... Griselda?” The old gobliness lay slumped against the chair, unmoving save her shallow breathing. 

Marianne set to work. She tried to pry the thorn from his chest, tried to wake him, tried all she could think of. She spent hours on her knees over Bog, tears dribbling more and more insistently down her face. He was her friend, he was hurt and she couldn't do anything to help him. It was, shockingly, worse than finding her fiance with another woman, it was worse even than finding out her mother had died. This had all of the horror and betrayal of those two days with the added pain of feeling you had all the tools yet were still useless. Marianne curled into the Goblin king's side, nudging her way under his arm as she'd done as a child, finding her head still fit comfortably against him between his shoulder and his chest.

There she wept until she, like all the goblins, slipped into sleep.

Marianne was roused suddenly when Griselda cried out next to the bed. “What!?” The old Goblin's eyes were wide as though in horror. “He comes!” Marianne watched in her own horror as Griselda's eyes rolled up into her head and she slumped against the chair again. “Too tired. Been watching too long... Protect my boy...” Marianne pried herself off the bed. Whoever it was she had to be ready. She slipped behind the door, Griselda said she only woke when someone came for Bog so they would be here, in the room. She would be ready for them, ready to get answers.

She was _not_ ready.

She was not ready to see Roland waltz in like he owned the place. “Hag...” She could only guess he was addressing Griselda as he walked in. His armor glinted in the night while he moved around to the aged goblin and kicked her none too gently. Apparently he’d expected her to be awake. He muttered at the old goblin before he turned around towards Bog.

Say what you would of Roland but he was a warrior. He spun to face her at the sound of her sword being freed from her belt, his own sword whipping out and his eyes wide in shock at the noise. A bloom of blue light showed him the prowling princess and his lip curled in a sinister grin. “Buttercup! Darlin...” His voice smooth and gentle even as it was sinister and horrible. He was not fool enough to stow his blade.

“What are you doing here Roland?” He sneered at her. “Oh just… Checkin on things here. Seein if I could find my wayward fiance, the lost princess.” She growled at him. “I’m not your fiance. Not anymore. Get out. Get out of my sight!” The slow drawl of the males smile curdled her stomach. “Y’know. Maybe I’ll just...” He reached over towards Bog, his metal covered hand leaning towards the wound and Marianne shrilled her denial while she slashed at him with her sword. “Don’t you dare touch him!” Roland fluttered back but the grin on his face had soured to a glower. “So that’s why it didn’t ever work.” She blinked at him, what was he even talking about?

“You love that… that cockroach!” It wasn’t a question but that certainly didn’t help her suss out what was accusing her of. “He won’t die because _you_ love him!” She blinked hard at him this time. “Fine. If the spell won’t work… I’ll just kill him myself.” Marianne parried Roland’s attempt, shifted and slipped through, getting herself between Roland and Bog. She didn’t bother with words, what could she say to him? She’d never let Roland know she knew how to swing a sword _correctly_. He had always seemed to enjoy being the knight protecting the princess, and she molded herself into that story.

But she did know how to swing a sword. Bog had taught her when she was just a child. She may have been out of practice but she knew well enough to hold her showy ex back. She was panting as Roland beat away at her sword, trying to get her to falter, trying to get past her but pure stubborn will was on her side. He locked blades with her and glared at her over the cross. She may have had will but he had weight on her. 

Roland shoved her with all his might and she was flung back towards Bog, spinning her slightly. It took only the half a moment while she was falling to realize something had changed. The thorn in his chest had blackened and there was a point over his heart. One she was falling straight for. She had two choices in that split second. Put her hands up to break the fall and chance impaling herself or Bog on her sword… or throw her hand to the side and embrace the fate that seemed to be waiting for her. 

If you were to call the princess anything, it would not be “coward”.

Pain lanced through her chest and she heard Roland shriek a denial. Far more panicked than she could have ever expected. “No! **NO**!” She hadn’t been expecting him to flee but he did. The insipid prick nearly dropped his sword in his haste to flee the room. She could faintly hear him as he made haste out of the castle. She wasn't sure what he was fleeing but she would accept his absence as a blessing. Not that she could spare much thought on him as she was pierced through the chest.

Her breathing was slowing, the magical thorn slowly easing her into a painfully numb sleep. She tried to pull herself off of the thorn but that seemed to dig it deeper. Damn this. If she was going to succumb to the magic, she would do it her way. She let out a cry of agony as she reached up to Bog’s face and pulled his head up towards her. Roland had been right about something. She did love Bog. It took her falling onto a thorn for her to figure it out but she did. She stretched and shifted painfully, the thorn digging into bone trying to overwhelm her. She could feel the pain of her broken heart, the pain of the thorn in her chest.

She stretched herself to reach, pulling his heavy head to hers and brushing her lips across his slack mouth.

Her strength gave out with a sob. Damn this. There was a small space between her chest and his. Marianne reached a trembling hand around his chest and then… She shoved herself down onto the thorn so her chest rest against his, letting out a bitter sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. The princess drifted into sleep, laying across the sleeping King.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When no one person knows the whole story, no one person can pull the pieces together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit more POV intense, it swaps around -a lot- where I know the last one didn't. Hope it's not too difficult to wade through...
> 
> If it got confusing then lemme know and I'll try to explain and maybe fix it? Idk...

Flowers withered in the forest. Vines fell and festered slowly, pulling back from the edges of the dark forest. Elves found goblins wandering out of the forest in a daze. It’d been three days since the princess went missing, three days since the primroses had started moldering. Between concern for his daughter and curiosity the king of the fairies took a litter and a few of his guards to check on the Bog King. Perhaps Bog knew where his daughter was. They had been playmates as children after all.

He had his men set the litter down near the skull of the castle, black vines lay in shambles in and around the mouth while a small group of goblins hacked away at the withered vines. One of them bellowed at the sight of the other king and they swiftly cleared a path for him, each looking nervously at the other.

Very shortly after stepping inside he saw the old queen, Griselda. He was shocked to see one of the plants behind her old broken horn, a small bud blooming in her hair. “Lady Griselda! I need to speak with your son, the king...” The king couldn’t have been more shocked when tears welled in her small eyes. She may have been prone to the _dramatic_ but _needlessly_ emotional was never something he would have accused her of. There was a very obvious hint of resignation and pity in the sigh she let loose. “I’m so sorry… You’re looking for your girl right? I’m… I’m so sorry...” Truth be told the king had not seen her quite like this… Not since his wife had died and she’d come to offer her condolences. The aging monarch’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. “What… What do you know?!” Griselda motioned for him to follow. “You’d best sit.”

Dagda was glad she made him sit. 

“Your girl came here… after that… I think his name was Rowly? I don’t remember this part so well… But after _he_ came looking for a love potion my son was cursed. A girl he’d thought loved him used a magic thorn to try and kill him. Plum came to me, gave me the flower here...” She touched the bloom in her hair for emphasis. “She told me it was all she could do for the curse. Told me that I could watch over my son but as time went on I’d get more tired, only be able to wake when someone came towards the castle, eventually only when someone came for him. Your girl woke me. Then that boy woke me again, I couldn’t stay awake though, too much for my old body to handle. I know he came in, and I know she fought him. But it seems she lost. She fell, her heart over my boys heart, and the thorn punctured her too.” Dagda knew he was crying but couldn’t do anything to stop himself.

“I need to see her.” He stated and the gobliness nodded. She understood. 

Seeing his daughter sprawled over the Goblin King was painful enough without him trying to pull her off of him and finding her stuck to his chest. Her beautiful purple wings still stretched uncomfortably across them both like she'd been straining. Dagda gently shifted her wings, Griselda helped him shift Bog's arm and wings out from under her so neither royal looked like they would be in discomfort. She rose and fell with his breath, her own chest rising and falling in a syncopated rhythm to his. They both made soft noises of discomfort which tore at their parents hearts.

“When Plum gave me the rose, she said that as he slept time wouldn't pass for him, that he'd stay as he was. I can only guess it will be the same for her.” She shocked the Fairy King by passing a particularly motherly, gentle hand over the fluff of hair on his girl's head. “She tried to save him... And she may have saved the rest of us... As the vines wither, life returns.” She shrugged at him, a sadness in her eyes that he understood. Perhaps the thorn that bound them like this would wither too? “I'll send laborers to help clear the vines.” He offered and she smiled, a soft, too large grin as she nodded.

~~

Dawn visited her sister in the dark forest every day after she found out from her father that her sister was as safe as she could be in the goblin castle. Sunny and Pare were helping lead the elven workers who were helping the goblins clear the vines away. “How much longer do you think?” She asked him and he shrugged. “Each day we find more vines but each day they're even weaker and we can clear them more easily.” He offered her but she sighed all the same. “I just don't know what to do Sunny... We don't know what happened and no one knows where Roland is...” Sunny wrinkled his nose at the mention of Marianne's fiance but said nothing.

The pair of best friends split, Dawn heading to visit her sister and Sunny to meet up with Pare and the others who were helping in the forest. Dawn sang to herself as she flew to the castle, landing lightly in the cavernous mouth that was now totally cleaned of the vines. The inside of the castle had been the first thing cleared, before the fairies and elves had started helping. The chipper creature nodded to the castles workers, Stuff and Thang were heading a group that was likely going to go meet up with Sunny. Thang waved excitedly at her and she grinned waving back, Stuff smacked him in the back of the head to get him to pay attention but offered her own very quick wave before going back to the group they were organizing. 

Griselda was organizing more goblins inside and broke completely from what she was doing to give Dawn a tight hug that the fairy was happy to return. She liked Griselda. “Brutus is standing guard, we've found a thicket of goblins still sleeping, thorns still on them so we're doing a big push today.” Dawn nodded with a smile. “Still no casualties?” The old gobliness smiled her very broad smile. “None. But we're getting to the north side of the castle. The thickest of the brambles are to the north.” Dawn nodded and the old woman waddled back to what she had been doing, her sharp, piercing voice followed Dawn up to the room she visited daily. “G'morning Brutus!” She chirped and he opened the door to her with a broad grin. “G'mornin princess.”

The moss was still thick, wrapped around the two who slept there, but they'd trimmed it back some, back to a comfortable length. Dawn walked up and plucked a leaf of a different, less comfortable moss out of the edge of the bedding then ran her fingers over the back of the king's arm. The motionless male seemed... Sweet. Between the stories Griselda told and the soft way his face lay in his sleep she couldn't help but attribute a gentle soul to the rough face. She remembered very little of him from when she was a child. Too busy with Sunny and too young for the rest of the time but he was stern and fair from what she did remember. She leaned against the bedding and plucked another long strand of moss that would tickle her if it'd been against her skin.

She ran her hand over her sister's arm where it lay across the king's narrow middle, Marianne's fingers tucked in under the edge of his carapace. Dawn hummed softly, gently. She'd learned very quickly her singing caused the goblins pain if she got too excitable. She stuck to mournful or soulful songs that didn't go so high in pitch and that seemed to help. Dawn hummed and sung to herself for a bit while she pruned and weeded the moss, then settled in and told her sister about her time away.

~~

For all the pain, at least he was warm. A warm, small body pressed against his. Bog looked down at the little fairy pressed against his chest, oh, it was that little spit fire, Marianne? Yes, Marianne. Dreams were so strange like that, even though he knew her at sight he still wasn't sure it was her. He recognized the room, her room. They frequently fled to her room when they were kids, her sister, Dawn would go play with that little elf and neither Bog nor Marianne were interested in tea or house. He remembered waking up like this. The middle of the night, before his father died. He'd finally explained to her why he hated the primroses.

Bog pet her brown hair, the soft fluff under his large hand so pleasant. Why had she said that? That it wouldn't be so bad to be in love with him? Even as a young teen he'd felt the sting of fickle love. He'd told the girl he desired so badly that he loved her and she... Well she threw it back at him. She was just trying to be nice, why would she ever want to be with something as hideous as he was? He'd even made the mistake of talking to the Sugar Plum fairy, but she stressed to him that if the person he dusted was already in love it wouldn't work. That hit him hard. It wasn't real love. The potion didn't help or ease you into the love you felt, it forced you to love and that wasn't real love. After thinking long and hard about it, he'd realized how terribly wrong the potion really was and had made his decision about the primroses.

But Marianne, little fiery tough Marianne, was still too young to know how badly love could hurt. She was too sweet to understand how saying she wouldn't mind being _forced_ to love a _thing_ like him would hurt. He'd always liked the fiery little fairy. She was so unlike the other fairies. Never held back from him when he came, always played with him, even if it was a bit strange for someone five years her senior to play with her. They would have contests, and he'd taught her how to fight, and he... He missed her. The dream was proof of that. Now thinking on her he realized how terribly he missed her.

How long had he slept? He stroked the fairy against his chest again, remembering the feel of her rose bed on his spine. She made a soft noise and lifted her head. He smiled at her, she'd never had a problem with his crooked, fang like, teeth so he didn't hide them from her. She made him feel accepted. “Bog? Bog you're awake?” Her voice was rough from sleep and she looked... She didn't look as young as he expected. In fact, he didn't look young enough for this memory. Dreams were strange he supposed.

“Bog... You... You're alright? How did we get to my room?” She looked around and lifted up off of him and his heart nearly stopped. A black wound marred her over her chest, right over her heart. “Marianne!” He lunged to cover the wound but it didn't bleed and he hurt from the lunge. He clutched his hand over his own heart, right where he'd been stabbed with that infernal thorn. His wound matched hers. They looked at each other in shock, then Bog huffed to himself. “Ah'm... So glad thi's a dream...” He leaned back and covered his face with a large hand. “What... what do you mean?” He scoffed at the dream and let his hand fall off his face as she let her fingers glide around the hole. There was no pain to it, standard for a dream. Though he had thought he was in pain a little bit ago, how was that...

He watched her worry over him with a smile. “Muh mind made ya lovely... All grown an pretty...” He sighed wistfully as he ran the back of his clawed hand over her face. She caught his hand and frowned sternly at him. “Bog...” He smiled a crooked grin at her. “Aye?” She looked off to the side then back down at him. “What happened?” He frowned and the dream shifted so that he was in his throne room. He looked about with disinterest. Her room was a far more pleasant memory. Then looked forward towards the goblin he once thought he'd marry. Marianne was holding his hand, her long thin little fingers twisted between his.

Marianne growled as the female goblin mounted the stairs and batted her eyes at him. “She tol' meh she wanted meh... 'At she regretted bein suh mean ta meh.” He recited the memory dispassionately, his free hand reaching up to the she-goblin as he frowned down at her, batting her long beautiful lashes at him. Then she growled and plunged the thorn into his chest. Her resolve lasted for only that second. Her eyes wide and dancing across everything, she was suddenly panicked. Bog fell backwards into the throne behind him. “Ah think tha' fop put 'er up to et.” He watched as the potion wanting fairy popped his head in and helped to usher her out as she fled. Bog could see the smitten look on her face as she looked at the fairy. “Roland!” Marianne hissed, still holding his hand as he lay on the throne, the scene around them fading. “Y'kno the git?” He questioned, he actually didn't remember getting the name of the blonde fool so he was shocked his mind knew it. Marianne turned to him with an angry look on her face.

“He's my ex fiance.”

The dream shifted around him, their hands were still joined and she was wearing... A white and gold dress... They were flying. He could hear the indistinct echo of her voice around them even as she looked forward with a pained face. The echo was happy, sweet, it was joyful in a way that made his heart swell slightly. Marianne deserved to be that kind of happy. She looked nothing of the sort as she landed on a flower. He stood beside her and she glanced down at her free hand. A boutonniere of red and yellow sat gently in her palm. 

When her head raised towards the field in front of them he looked out. “No... Damn him.” She whispered it as the scene unfolded. “Damn him and his hollow heart.” She cursed at the git, as the little shit lifted a different fairy into his arms and then kissed her passionately. To Bog’s horror, the happy echos turned to a bitter, denying sort of sob. Marianne arched in on herself, her shoulders curling in, the flower having fallen to the ground. Time in the dream seemed to stop while she watched the man she was supposed to marry kiss another woman. Bog couldn’t stand watching her in pain, he pulled her closer, winding an arm around her to block out the sight. 

Other scenes flickered around them. Things that didn’t feel quite right, they felt… Very hers. Like they were Marianne’s memories. What he’d thought was strictly his dream no longer felt like his, it felt shared, which lead to some very worrying implications. “Marianne...” He thought to ask her how this was happening, to ask how he could see into her while he slept. “How...” He started then they shifted again and he couldn't help but fall out of her grasp onto his moss covered bed. That git, Roland, stood in his room, his mother beside his bed, looking haggard as she slept in a chair nearby. He looked back up, trying to stand but he couldn't. Marianne stood between them, between himself and Roland, her blade locked with his. She spoke to him quietly but clearly. “He was going to kill you... I didn't know what he was talking about... he wasn't making sense.” Their voices echoed around the pair of dreamers, the words lost as she told him what had happened. 

Roland shoved and he looked down his body at her. The bleeding end of the thorn grew into a spike, the thorn now had two points. One buried in his heart, the other pointed out as he looked up and saw her slowly falling down towards him. The blade she'd carried was cast aside and his eyes widened. “No... No you're gon'ta...” She slammed into him and no mater how hard he tried he couldn't stop her. He was too panicked to notice the dream stutter, like things skipped a moment. 

“I fought it for a bit...” She told him, no pain in her voice. She shuddered then reached around him, draping an arm across him then pulling herself flush with him. “No!! This cannea happen!” He finally stirred, his arms moving under his own power now. He fought to peel her off of him but she let out a pained noise. “It's too late Bog. It already happened.” He stopped trying to pull her off his chest and she simply released from him, their bodies no longer pinned to the other by that infernal thorn.

He clutched her to his chest, they shifted so she was laying across his lap, her wings draped out behind her. “Y'coulda saved yerself! Just... Put out yer hands! Anehthin...” Her shoulders rolled in and she picked at the thorn in her chest, now like his had been, a wound that was bleeding red with no blood to seep from it. “If I'd have saved myself I might have hurt you with my sword.” In the silence Roland's voice echoed around them “You love that… that cockroach! He won’t die because _you_ love him!” 

Bog gasped as though he was stabbed again. “Wut?”

Some part of him remembered. Remembered desperate hands on him, pulling his head. The feeling of lips brushing against his and warm breath invading his mouth. All of it underscored with agonized whimpers and sobbing. “I'm sorry Bog.” She offered and he blinked. He could feel her weight against his chest. Her back under his hand, the drape of her wings over his knuckles. She stood away from him and paced her frustration but he could still feel all those things. He could feel her. A melodic voice trickled through. He didn't know the voice or the song they sung. “I'm sorry that I've... I've trapped you here... With me. That I didn't wake you or fix the problem.” 

He stood and frowned at her. “I'm sorry... So very sorry... I don't know what I did when I fell on you... I don't know what happened after... Your mother asked me to save you and... And I failed.” He stepped towards her in her pacing. He felt another hand as the song dwindled. Delicate fingers gliding over his arm and Marianne gave a sudden, violent shiver. “Did ya feel that?” He questioned and she blinked at him. “I don't... I don't know... I feel...” She seemed frustrated and he could feel her weight so clearly, where her hand pressed against his right side, her breath fanning over his chest. Her eyes opened towards him and she shook her head.

“I don't know what you're talking about... I just... I don't feel anything really...” She glanced down and gasped, pointing at his chest and he looked down to see his wound was... It was _healing_. A smile broke over her face and she reached out to him. “Did... What changed?” He shrugged and looked at her wounded chest. The wound looked... The same... The dream around him seemed somehow grayer. He reached for her but he didn't feel her like before. Didn't feel her reach up and touch his face or when her lips landed on his, only caught the echo of her words. “I did save you! I love..!”

~~

Bog groaned and Dawn nearly jumped out of her skin. “Boggy?” She questioned as he shifted slightly. He pulled her sister closer to him, pressing the limp body tightly against his. “Boggy!?” The shrill pitch made him wince and groan. “Bog King.” He groaned and there was a tiny shrill squeal. “Oh my goodness! Marianne?!” He felt the body on him being shaken... but remain limp. The excited noises halted and he opened his eyes to frown at the sprightly girl he had to guess was the little cotton fluff younger sister of Marianne. Her lower lip trembled as she looked down at Marianne then back up to Bog. “M'sorry. Ah... Ah dun't know what woke meh...” She flopped down in the chair he remembered his mother sitting in from the memory Marianne accidentally showed him.

Bog clutched her limp form more tightly and she shifted against his chest. If she'd been pinned to him by the thorn that shouldn't happen... he pulled on her and she was pulled away by his gentle tug. Only to expose the wound she'd had in the dream to him. Dawn let loose a sob and her hand covered her mouth, eyes pinned to her sister's chest. “Is she.... Dead?” Dawn asked reluctantly as he pulled her sister over into his lap, much like she'd been in that dream. “Nay. She's spelled... Cursed... The thorn grew inta her an outa meh.” Tears welled in the younger fairies eyes, spilling slowly over her lashes. “How?!” Bog cradled the princess in his arms and stroked her hair out of her face. “'M not sure.”

She whimpered softly in her sleep. Both checked to be sure there was nothing to harm her, no wing out of place or spot where his rough body pressed into her too harshly but here was nothing other than the painful looking wound on her chest. Bog sighed, finally looking up from the fairy in his arms though he was loath to set her down yet. Out the small port hole of a window he saw black vines hanging in the trees. “What in the blazes...” Dawn followed his line of sight and looked out the window. It was to the north side of the castle, where the worst of the brambles still were. “Oh... that's the primroses...”

He blinked at her. “Child... are yeh _daft_?” She smiled at him in a way that made him feel like maybe he was the daft one. “They aren't normal primroses. They've got thorns, any goblin pricked by them would fall to sleep...” 

A rucus down below made him growl. “Has the whole a' my kingdom fallen ta chaos?” He still clutched the fairy to his chest, having not moved from the bed. The door creaked open and an elf he thought he might remember as Sunny, Dawn’s little friend, stuck his head in “Dawn! You won't... HOLY! Your highness!?!” The elf fell on his backside. “Oh Fer... Just say wut yer gonna say!” Bog snapped at the elf and Dawn swatted him gently. “Um uh... We found Roland... But... There was a Goblin with him... And the... Um... Your mom... AH! Dowager Queen Griselda! She put them both in the dungeon...” Dawn's brow furrowed, her eyes snapping to Bog and he nodded. “The Git's the reason Marianne's...” Bog shuddered and glanced down. “Um... Do you... want me to announce that you're... um... Awake?” 

“Not yet...” 

Dawn must have realized that he wanted a moment. She was swift, before he could even lift his head fully she was up and holding the Elf's hand. “I'm gonna go see what's... What Griselda has to say... You'll be ok?” She questioned as she used her hip to push the elf out of the room. When Bog nodded she was quick to close the door. Marianne whimpered again and he pulled her to his chest again. 

“'M sorry ya got dragged inta this Marianne.” He offered the sleeping princess. Many times when they were young he would tuck her in before leaving for the night. It felt like a different life, like an age ago. He lifted her to him nuzzling his long nose into her hair and pressed his forehead to hers. Strange to think that he thought he was in love with that beautiful, traitorous, young thing. Thinking back on her likes and wants, Marianne would be a far better match for him. She had fire and drive while... There was no use comparing them. He'd always loved Marianne. 

It just didn’t matter… it would never work.

His heart gave a painful thump at the mental admission. His mind whirling through things he'd never really seen before. Hours sparring, the few letters they wrote that he still kept, and the look on her face when he took the throne. The way his heart ached at knowing that he'd never spend time with the princess as a prince again. Sure it was only once every so often but now he'd be occupied speaking with her father rather than keeping her out of and getting her into trouble. It hurt when she said she wouldn't mind being stuck with him because he didn't want her to feel stuck. How had the then ten year old child managed to capture him so completely? He chocked on the words he suddenly realized he felt, shifting her to lay in his bed more comfortably.

He had work to do.

Namely some harsh punishment to dole out to a cad who'd burned her and had nearly seen his whole land in ruins. She looked... He needed not to get lost in her laying on his bed with a hole in her chest because of him. Because she wouldn't protect herself if it meant that she might hurt him. Bog couldn't help but run a hand over her arm before finally leaving. He'd have to deal with the fact that he loved Marianne later. Have to come to grips with the idea that she might love him too when he had time. He didn't have time for the existential crisis that came along with her willingly letting harm befall her on his behalf. Deal with the conflict that pulled in his chest when he could sit down and suss through this revelation and the guilt that was now bound to it. Decipher how long he'd felt for her less like a sister and more like someone he admired. 

As he passed through his castle goblins scrambled and hissed. Many simply gave a deferential nod and a simple “Sire” which was more than enough. Let the Fairies have their pomp, his people showed their fealty in their own way and followed orders. He wanted for little more from them. Stuff and Thang ran up to him with his staff, passing it to him as he walked. And he did walk, it gave him time that flying head first into the dungeon wouldn't allow. His mother's gasp was something he never thought he'd ache to hear but her shuddering noise of shock felt like a fresh breath of air. “Mom...” She flung her arms around his legs, nearly toppling him. “Finally!” She started to babble and he noticed the primrose in her hair. “Mom... What is _that_?” he questioned pointing to it and she smiled. “Oh now that You 'n Marianne er up I kin throw it...” As she reached for the flower he stopped her. 

“Wut do ya mean... Now that we're up?” Her face beamed up at him. “Plum gave me this bud so that the thorns couldn't keep me asleep... so I could watch over you... but now that you two are up...” her fingers reached out again and he shook his head, pulling her hand away. “Marianne's not awake...” Her hand went limp in his. “What?!” He held a hand above her and shushed her. “Mum... She's... I woke but she didn't... Ah came ta see tha prisoners 'at were brought in...” Suddenly Griselda's eyes narrowed and she shoved her boy. “Let'um rot! We need ta talk!” Bog was ushered off to his room, Dawn showing up like magic outside his door as the pair approached. 

Griselda pushed into the room and gasped, having not seen the wound transferred to the girl due to her position on Bog. “No...” She shook her head and walked over to the bed. “Damn that girl. Just as stubborn as you.” Dawn looked tearful but managed to hold herself together. “What woke you?” Griselda's tone was nearly accusatory but Bog had no answers for her. “Ah heard Dawn, felt Marianne's weight on muh chest... Then the dream faded an' ah woke but Marianne still slept.” 

“The dream?!” Griselda's eyes narrowed at him, seeming to find something suspect. “Aye. There was a dream... Marianne spoke to me in it...” His mother made a face and suddenly he felt like he had to defend the dream. “Mom, it was strange. Ah didn't know Roland's name but she showed me... we replayed memories... Includin when tha cad were here... when they fought...” Griselda stopped and blinked owlishly at him. “How... You know he came here?” Bog nodded. “He said somethin... 'He won't die because ya love him.' But after that I could feel outside the dream.” Griselda hissed audibly. 

“ _Marianne loves you?!_ ” 

Dawn gasped and Bog made a vague hand gesture. “A... Apparently? She... She kissed me before Ah woke...” Griselda's tiny eyes widened impossibly. “Oh...” She looked around and then back up to Bog. “Oh no...” He growled at his mother. “Wut'er ya on about woman!?” The aging gobliness gripped his arm and wiggled her hand in a frantic sort of motion. “Bog! It was a _love_ curse! It's broken by real love! Oh no!!! She kissed you but only you woke up!?!” Dawn was biting her lip and looking worried but Bog was pretty sure he knew where his mother was going with this. 

“She luves meh... an' her kiss woke meh, even though it were in muh mind...” Griselda finished for him and it ripped a sob out of Dawn. “But since you don't feel the same she didn't wake up.” It actually hurt for his mother to accuse him of not loving Marianne. Really he just... He hadn't realized he loved her until it was far too late. He hadn't acknowledged his feelings until after he was out of the dream. Griselda ushered a crying Dawn out of the room and shot nastily back over her shoulder at him. “I don't want her alone until we can fix this. Stay here while I get Sunny to help Dawn.”

Bog leaned over and took Marianne's hand. Her fingers were so long and thin but ultimately tiny compared to his hands. She was fine and petite but she was strong and wonderful. “M sorry Marianne. Ah... Ah luv ya. Ah'm sorry Ah jus dun't know _how_ ta luv.” He pinched his eyes closed on the bitter feelings in his chest. It felt almost like the tip of the thorn was still painfully embedded in his heart. Bog leaned further down and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips then rested his head against hers for a moment. He straightened and wondered how long until his mother came back. He would keep vigil over her as long as needed but it hurt right now.

It’d been only a pair of seconds when he heard his mother shriek in the hall, just beyond the door. At the sounds of his mother’s distress, the visceral scream she let loose, he ripped the door open, ready to confront whatever had attacked her. He was shocked to see no attacker but his eyes quickly fell to what had caused the shriek. The bloom that had been healthy in her hair only minutes before was laying dead and withered on the ground. Plum had given her that and she'd said she would remove it when they were both awake. Apparently his waking had caused the bloom to die and wither spectacularly...

The flower was bound to them... To her. Bog abandoned his mother and turned back to Marianne who still laid on his bed, still caught in sleep. Two long steps had him over next to her, making sure she still breathed as his mother made noises of panic that his heart echoed. “ _The wound..._ ” He hissed the words, shock lancing through his voice as he knelt on the moss beside the princess, curling over her to inspect the mark more closely. All sounds from the group outside the room halted and a gasp ripped out of the old gobliness.

“Hmmm...” 

He'd been concentrated on the way the thorn seemed to be fading into healthy skin, healing like it was mud washed away by rain rather than a grievous wound. So concentrated that the humming didn't really reach his ears until a hand reached up and touched his face. “I expected you to be a bit more _coy_ about staring at my chest...” There was warmth and gentle teasing in the voice. A softness that was echoed in the hand that made him startle and nearly fall forward onto it's owner, a hand planting on the other side of her so that he would be steady and stable. “Marianne!” He ignored the shocked and excited noises, ignored his mother screaming for word to be sent to the fairy king, ignored Dawn's painful trill of joy. 

Looking down on her, laying there in his bed, her eyes open and a soft grin spreading her lips as she looked up at him he couldn't help but just stare. “Hey...” There was a gentleness to the word, a soft pleasant caress to his ears. She winced at the noises her sister was making as she tried to sit up slowly. “We... are awake right?” She questioned and he grinned, retreating out of her personal space some, not wanting to crowd her or make her uncomfortable.

“Aye...”

She smiled a slow smile and looked him over as he settled close to her but not quite as close as before. He was figditing slightly, acting a bit nervous. “So... any chance I can talk you into a kiss while we're both awake?” The boldness of the question took him slightly back but looking at her as a warm _hopeful_ smile decorated her face, a grin curled his lips. “Yeh might could maybe...” He couldn't help but enjoy putting a teasing purr into the words and watching her face light up then go smug. She leaned forward, that self assured grin demanding his attention as she oh so slowly closed the distance between them. 

She took too long, he had to just snatch her up, pulling her to his chest so that he could cradle her in his arms. Her arms snapped around his neck just as quickly and suddenly, fingers hungrily tracing his spine and gripping the scales on the back of his head. When she bit her lip he was done for, he pressed his lips down against hers and she let out a happy sounding little gasp before pressing up into him, her fingers pulling him close. It was every bit as wonderful as the kiss in their dream but this was real. They broke for just a moment, her nuzzling up into his nose. “I love you... You big stupid Goblin...” A soft bark of laughter slipped out of him. “I love you too... Tough girl...” at his age old nickname for her she pressed up against him again, brazen and hungry for him. 

They kissed until a metallic thump sounded, breaking them away from the moment. They turned as one towards the door... only to see the bottom side of her father's boots in the door.

“Oh _rot_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok!! Hope y'all liked this... I've actually got several stories that are close to finished or that I'm just dieing to finish but something's holding them back... So hopefully finishing this will kick me into over drive and I can post some of the other stuff I've been working on...
> 
> Hope the few shout outs to the actual movie were enjoyable not eyeroll inducing


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